Catch Me Falling
by SoulTears
Summary: Tragedy strikes close to her and leaves Sango heartbroken and alone, her only family now locked away. Can Miroku save her from the pain?


Disclaimer: Ownership of these two mismatched lovebirds belongs solely to Rumiko-sama. All I can do is find ways to bring them together. Oh, and Maroon 5 in not mind either.

**Catch Me Falling**

Gods she hated this place. The halls, walls, and floors reeked with the stench of sterility. The white paint that permeated her vision made her shudder. Walking down the hallway, she observed the nurse guiding her. A very pretty little thing, she seemed much older in the customary button-up white shirt and skirt with white cap. White on white, what an ingenious concept. As if she needed another reason to feel the bite of lunacy stalk closer and closer to her mind. Their shoes clapped against the linoleum floor with almost deafening sound. Finally the nurse stopped, pointing to an inconspicuous white door with a square window cut into it. Her hands were trembling she could feel it. On the other side of the ordinary door was _him_. Taking two faltering steps forward, Sango looked through the window into Hell.

The first thing she noticed was the padded wall on all sides. A barred window served as the only connection to the outside world for the cell's inmate. Besides the pads, there was only the thin mattress (white, as well as the walls). That left only the occupant. Seated on the bed Sango could see the tousled hair of her younger brother Kohaku. His eyes, which at one time had been soft and gentle, now held a doll-like indifference in them. There was nothing in those orbs, emotions nonexistent. His arms and legs, crossed right over left, lay close to his body as he stared off into space. Sango could feel the tears stinging her eyes as she signaled to the nurse to unlock the door. The abnormally loud squeaking of the door hinges made no visible effect on the young boy, nor did the protestations of the mattress as she sat next to him, still did his eyes remain tuned to nothing at all until Sango, with trembling voice and unconcealed tears, summoned him to her.

"Kohaku." At the mention of his name the boy turned his head slowly to look at her, acknowledging the presence of another in the room for the first time, but the dull look would not leave his eyes. So she talked, talked of everything, talked of nothing. Anything to break the silence. "So I took a test in Sattler's class today. I swear that she has a flagpole stuck up her ass or something. There were two hundred questions and five essays! I mean, I can understand if there are problems at home, but it has no place in a classroom…" Her rant faded away as she noticed that her brother had silently turned his body to face her. The look in his eyes was sharp, an intense beam focused solely on her. For a second, Sango allowed herself to hope, to let that same glimmer of sunshine in her heart flare brighter than any star could ever burn, before tempering it down again. She knew it, the clockwork of what would soon occur. Every time she came to visit, he would seem to open up to her, but all that really happened was a regression further in his madness, for with the memory of his sister came the memories of his family.

The family he had slaughtered.

Even now, almost four years after, she could find no explanation for it. Kohaku had always been a gentle boy, filled with kindness and that innocent joy that only a pure child could feel. Sure, he had been ill suited for the family business, powerful mercenaries known for their efficiency and speed, but Father had never been harsher than usual. All was well, until that fateful night when her youngest, dearest brother rose from his bed at midnight and, using the sword he had trained all his life with, began to systematically massacre every member of the household. His face when he appeared in her room was burned forever into her mind, the screams of her dying kin having long since woken her. Kohaku stood at the entrance bathed in blood from head to toe, literally dripping with it. Tissue and skin clung to the sword in his hands, giving it a nightmarish, demonic quality. She could not speak, the horror of the sight as the moon beamed on him and cast a red glow over the room rendering her mute. All she could do was react as he rushed forward with the sword aimed at her heart. It had hurt to fight him, to know what he had done, and to hear the booming, alien laugh issue forth from his lips as their swords came together with loud clashes. All his attacks were meant to kill her, she knew from the speed that the blade would fall and the chuckle that accompanied every parry, as if he knew it was only a matter of time. Even then, she could not bring herself to do it. It was Kohaku, her brother, the only family she had left. She did not question this statement, feeling the truth of it in the marrow of her bones. So when the time came, she slashed with the blunt end of his sword, watching as comprehension dawned on him, as for a second a look of overwhelming sadness and mad guilt arrested him, before unconsciousness swept him away.

Four years later and he was committed to an asylum, for life. At trial he had been himself for a while, but 'Naraku' (the name Sango had thought of for the murder of her family) came out often, proving the defense's case that the boy was in fact criminally insane, suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder. The sentence was swift. The pads and board-thin mattress of the room would be his living tomb, his cell for the rest of his days. The clock would not stop to let her muse further however, as the shell of her younger brother launched at her, a primordial snarl ripping his throat. They struggled for a while, Sango letting the tears fall unbidden as she wrestled with the adolescent. The nurse checked the window and sighed sadly. 'Another month of hoping wasted,' she thought before looking away, playing the fool for Tom O'Bedlam and his older sister. Soon after, there came from the confines of the padded room a soft thud followed by three knocks on the door, signaling the end of the visit. Neither spoke as the nurse and sibling walked back down the hall. Sango's face was dry, the emotion once again pushed into the nether regions. The nurse left her in the lobby so that she may attend to other duties. Sango looked around, her eyes searching what her mind told her not to look for.

Miroku sat on one of the chairs, an old issue of Entertainment Weekly magazine hanging leisurely in his hands, used more for disguise than entertainment. He knew all the stories, every scandal big-time celebrities used to gain more publicity and clout. It was abysmally boring and more than once his eyes wandered around the lobby. The insane asylum had to be the absolute worst place to meet beautiful women. The usual visitors were relatives of the committed and none of them ever caught his eye. Not only that, but telling a prospective date that he worked there was not the best way to earn her favor. It still had its good point though. After all, he had met _her_ in this godforsaken place. It was a complete accident really, he had been asked to escort Sango Taijiya to one of the rooms in the Criminal Psych wing two years ago. Gods, a more alluring ass he had never seen, not to mention that the rest of her was pretty damn gorgeous too. He assumed position, ready to ask her his infamous question. Just as he had grabbed her hand (and rear) and took a breath, he looked into her eyes. The words died on his lips. Such emptiness in those twin orbs of hazel was impossible, should not even exist. She seemed lost in her own body, as if nothing mattered anymore. She even took a second longer than he would have liked to swat his hand away. Her strength, however, was apparent as her palm nearly broke his jaw. She was different, and this intrigued him. So a friendship developed full of pain and anger. He almost gave up hope until a year ago, when he finally managed to make her smile. They had been walking back from her routinely violent visit with Kohaku, when he hit a wet spot on the floor and literally landed on his ass. The pain shot arrows from the impact up his spine and he cursed colorfully, vowing to get the idiot who had been so careless. It started as a small tugging on the edges of her pursed lips before they split apart and an odd sound resounded through the hallway. Laughter, Sango was _laughing_. He smiled at her mirth, glad to be the object of ridicule if it made her happy. But he knew the truth then, when he saw her smile. Miroku Houshi had fallen in love, completely and unconditionally. He could not remember when exactly it had occurred, just that the smile had forced the epiphany upon him. With the love came the inevitable questions: Did she feel the same way? Could she feel the same, after all that had happened to her? No. There was no way she could, or would. After all, she continuously called him lecher and pervert. Miroku never denied this, nor could he deny the sting he felt each time she said, her eyes angry and lips curled like she had smelled something disgusting. So for a year he stood by her, held her after every visit as she sobbed her pain into his shirt, laughed with her when she did, and basically lived for her, loving in silence and actions. His thoughts were wiped away when Sango appeared in the lobby as Mitsumi dropped her like excess baggage. He hid behind the magazine for a while; steeling his resolve to go to the woman he loved.

She made a second sweep of the chairs before finally catching sight of the damn fool at the corner by the door. After glaring at the magazine that covered his face for a full minute, he dropped it and stood, flashing her one of his dazzling smiles. Breath seemed scarce at that moment before she regained control. For two years she had been confused by the effect the lech had on her, making her skin feel hot when he was near or how her senses heightened almost three times their strength until his scent consumed her, leaving her dizzy and euphoric. A welcome change indeed from the empty helplessness she felt after a visit with Kohaku. True he was an incorrigible pervert, but even that could be contended. After all, demeaning as his touch could be, it reminded her that she was in fact a woman, and evidently attractive enough to catch the eye of men. That was her biggest fear, to live alone the rest of her days. She had no family to fall back on; all that remained was Miroku. When the thought of losing him snuck on her, a strange tremble traveled up and down her spine as her eyes burned with tears. She could not lose him, not after all he had done for her, the strength he imparted in her to move on. Instinct told her the name of the feeling he filled her with, but sense refused to acknowledge it. He could never love her, she was too broken, too handicapped. She would just drag him down, hold him back, and make his life stagnate. 'No, I won't,' she thought as he greeted her.

"Konnitchiwa Houshi-sama."

"Now, Sango, you know I don't like it when you came that. We are friends,' he said lightly. 'And that's all we'll ever be.' She ignored him and headed for the door to which he silently followed. He knew what was coming, just had to get to the car so that she could let it out. They reached his Pinto and he opened the backdoor for her. Still not speaking she went in and he followed suit. "So," he said, deciding to start this time. "Any change in his condition?"

"Well, he recognized me faster than last time."

"That's good."

"But he still attacked me."

"Oh," he replied. Each visit was the same thing, he would recognize her and instantly try to kill her, no remorse and emotionless. The banter continued back and forth until the young mercenary could no longer hold it in. Seeing the telltale signs, Miroku spread his arms as she threw herself at him and cried out her pain. He ran his hands through her hair and down her back in order to soothe her. She would just bury her face in his neck and cry softly. After what seemed an eternity, her body stilled and she fell asleep and he was left to his thoughts. This time, however, he would not dwell on the impossible and instead enjoy the feeling of her body flush against his in a manner that any other day she would never have allowed. Love and despair swelled in his breast for her. It was the despair that made his arms tighten around her before he buried his face in her hair to inhale her scent. 'I love you, Sango.' Aloud, however, he decided to sing so as to pass the time. Taking a deep breath he began the first verse of a song he had liked recently

_Beauty queen of only eighteen  
She had some trouble with herself  
He was always there to help her  
She always belonged to someone else  
  
I drove for miles and miles  
And wound up at your door  
I've had you so many times but somehow  
I want more  
  
_Sango had felt his arms squeeze and his breath on her hair. It made her tingle and she longed then to just kiss his neck and declare all her heart felt, but she would not betray his trust. So she remained still even as he started to sing. She easily recognized the song and could feel the rumble of Miroku's baritone voice flush against her chest.

_I don't mind spending everyday  
Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved  
She will be loved  
  
Tap on my window knock on my door  
I want to make you feel beautiful  
I know I tend to get so insecure  
It doesn't matter anymore_

The music flowed through his lips as he was swept up in the current of emotion. Somehow the meaning of this song had evaded him until this moment, with his love sleeping in his arms. He was gripped by fear, the fear of what continuing to the end might unearth, but his lips sang on.

_It's not always rainbows and butterflies  
It's compromise that moves us along  
My heart is full and my door's always open  
You can come anytime you want  
  
I don't mind spending everyday  
Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved  
She will be loved_

Why did it hurt? How could his voice sweep her up so powerfully only to dash her cruelly against the rocks? She could feel that there was something wrong with Miroku, could feel his breathing hitch ever so slightly before moving on to the next verse. The passion in his voice called to her, beckoned her to answer his unspoken plea. She had to use all her self-control just to keep from quivering with need, from longing. Did he think she was still asleep? Could it be he had no idea that she was hearing him sing? This was betrayal of trust she knew, he was baring his soul and she was watching selfishly, but she had to know, needed to hear him finish the song. Not just for her sanity but for courage._  
  
I know where you hide  
Alone in your car  
Know all of the things that make you who you are  
I know that goodbye means nothing at all  
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls_

_Tap on my window knock on my door  
I want to make you feel beautiful  
I don't mind spending everyday  
Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved  
She will be loved_

The last note rang in the silence of the car. Miroku realized with a start that he had been crying onto Sango's hair, but she was asleep, so it did not matter. With immense surprise he felt said woman wrench herself from his embrace to stare at him in the eye. For a moment he was shocked and a little hurt, until the look in her stare clearly said she had not been sleeping as he thought. The fear clutched him then, as he fully expected her disgust. 'I'm just a pervert to you aren't I? A hopeless lecher unworthy of love…' His thoughts were cut short when he felt her lips, the same lips he had wished to taste for so long, brush against his. He looked up at her in surprise, noting that a crimson blush stained her cheeks.

"You sing beautifully," she mumbled while looking away. The embarrassment was too much. She wanted to just curl up into a ball and disappear. Before she could do anything to that effect, she felt warm hands cup her cheeks. She turned to look at their owner. His eyes shone with ethereal light and his lips were parted a little.

"Sango…" The rest was lost as he leaned and kissed her just as softly as she had him. "I love you." Tears sprang to her eyes to hear those words from him. She brought his lips to hers so as to stifle her sob of happiness. The passion escalated until Miroku lay on his back on the seat with Sango on top. Tentatively he licked her lips. She hesitated for a millisecond before parting her lips to give him access. Their tongues danced softly, each brush bringing a jolt of pleasure to both parties. Finally, the need for air overpowered them and they separated. Both panted loudly as their bodies struggled to return to a more normal temperature. Sango took quick breaths.

"Miroku…I…love you… too… so… much," she finally managed to say before kissing him again. The dance resumed as the setting sun shone on the lovers. The passion and need became too much for them as clothes were removed and piled in the front passenger seat. Pure instinct drove them to the completion their bodies begged for. When the final obstacle, underwear, was cast aside, the gravity of the situation sunk in. Sango looked down at the man she loved, uncertainty halted their progress. This would be her first time being with a man. Then again, she had just kissed one for the first time, declared her love for the first time, and felt joy for the first time in four years. Miroku was the physical representation of all these "firsts." This thought made her smile and gave her the courage to continue. As for Miroku waited, knowing quite well the reason for her stopping. Nothing he could say would help, so he let her decide the pace. She loved him, that statement alone could hold him over for the rest of his life if need be. Thankfully, however, she decided to continue. Two hearts joined in that Pinto, cries of delight and contentment confirmations of their love. Once it was over and the tide of pleasure that had crashed over her ebbed away to a dull rapture, Sango rested her head on his neck, kissing the pulse softly, butterfly kisses. He sighed and wrapped his shaking arms around her. Together they fell into a deep sleep, whispers of love and devotion their only lullaby.

* * *

I have no idea where this story came from. I just heard the song on the radio one day it just spilled out. Hope it made you feel as good as it made me. Ja ne. 


End file.
